


Ghostin' - A Milippa Short Fic

by dolcewrites



Series: Milippa Songfics [4]
Category: star trek discovery
Genre: Angst, Dream Sequences, F/F, Flashbacks, Ghostin', Grief, Mirror Universe, Pining, Songfic, ariana grande - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 19:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17772830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolcewrites/pseuds/dolcewrites
Summary: Stuck in the Mirror Universe, Michael Burnham strives to take on a new life, taking the place of her counterpart in this new world.But some things are never truly missing if they live on in one's heart. Michael has to learn to live with that.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! This was originally intended as a one-shot, but lucky for you, I write too much, so I'll be publishing this fic in increments throughout the entire day of Valentine's -- all timezones included. Be sure to visit back or turn on notifications to catch the entire story!
> 
> The song is Ghostin' by Ariana Grande on thank u, next. I do not own any of the lyrics, but I did arrange some of the pronouns.

In the sweetest of dreams, Philippa waits for Michael by a boardwalk at night, and the two of them share a stroll underneath the star-studded sky, the sea breeze in their hair, salty on their breath. The horizon reaches to the end of their sights, untouched by land on the opposite side.

 

In Michael’s own words, it was as if “the sea and sky are melded into one”, which she confessed to Philippa whilst leaning on the shoulder, the two of them seated with their legs dangling at the edge of a dock. “It’s absolutely seamless.” 

 

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Philippa asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s as if when heaven comes down to paint the sea.” Michael chuckled at her analogy. “Quite the poet, aren’t you, Philippa?” She leaned up for a quick kiss, catching her by surprise, only that it wasn’t unwelcome. Philippa’s laughter rumbled in her throat when she pulled away, examining Michael’s face as she did. “Oh, I have a lot more to say about a hair on your face than the horizons of the entire world. You’re simply exquisite, Michael.” 

 

Suddenly shy, Michael ducked down, a smile growing on her face despite an attempt to curb it. “I love you more, Philippa.”

 

“Oh?” A lighthearted challenge grew on Philippa’s voice as she spoke. “You’re on.” 

 

“Go ahead, then,” Michael countered, raising her eyebrows. She stared at Philippa, expectant, before looking away with a groan. “I can’t last for five seconds without looking into your eyes.” Those gorgeous eyes, brown like her hair, but it was such a lovely shade of brown as well. Not dull like dirt, but rich and velvety, as if chocolate and coffee, and so very delectable at that. It pulsed with soul, a meticulous thing of hope and love, and all else that was so pure and good about the captain Michael had come to truly adore. It seemed that it was nothing but sheer dumb luck that the same eyes would regard Michael with so much love that she could simply faint. 

 

Philippa seemed a little lost for words when Michael said so. With a gentle hand, she held Michael’s chin and tilted it towards her. “Is that so?” she breathed huskily. 

 

The kiss came not unexpected, but the sheer seriousness of it surprised even Michael as she kissed back, tentatively at first, and then as her heart squirmed and leapt inside of her she accepted Philippa with an open readiness. It was as though she were the silvery string of a violin, plucked, and then pulsing, soaring with the very notion of music, high above the frosty night air, a deliverance to even the deafest of ears. 

 

Her head tilted in absolute adoration as she regarded the Malaysian woman before her, her hair let down and flying in the wind, her scarf sailing likewise. In the night, Philippa looked ethereal, enchanting. 

 

But there was a distant part of her, fragile, too, that threatened to crumble and fade away if Michael reached out to touch her one second longer. Still, her heart swelled as Philippa turned to her, her eyes soft, kind and safe; an oasis for Michael to take refuge in, to rest from the weariness of day. She relished these moments, where it was just her and Philippa, and the world fell away.

 

“You make me so happy, Philippa.” The words were simple, beyond any poetry, lacking lyrical quality, but it was true. 

 

“I’m glad, Michael. To see you happy.” 

 

“Can’t we stay this way forever?” Michael sighed, resting her head on Philippa’s lap. 

 

“Oh, my love, I can only hope.”

 

“How do you mean?” A sinking feeling began to pierce Michael’s stomach, as dread began to seep inside her bones, as if she were losing the very notion of peace inside of her. 

 

“I’ll see you on the other side of the horizon, my darling. Be happy. That would be enough.”

 

“No --” 

 

The sea and the night sky were starless, a pitch back tapestry of nothing but a void. A rabbit hole. 

 

Michael could not pinpoint who entered this hole, her or Philippa, but all she knew was that something was missing, and two parts were not whole as one anymore. 

 

_ “It’s all right, Michael, it’s all right.”  _

 

Michael shot awake as the remainder of her dreams scattered her mind, too swift for her to reminisce its shreds. And she was thrust into her real life -- a world where happiness and hope, and everything that embodied Captain Philippa Georgiou was out of the equation, where the light was wrong, and she only had herself to cling onto.

 

And then she is greeted by a figure sitting next to herself on the bed, stroking her hair, pulling her covers back over her curled body, treating her with such a tenderness that one would only doubt if Michael had told of it to anyone else. 

 

It wasn’t as though anyone else would be interested to know what went down in the private quarters of Emperor Philippa Georgiou, anyways. Or at least, they wouldn’t be interested in asking Michael about it. 

 

“What --” 

 

“It’s all right, Michael. You’re safe with me,” Philippa shushed her gently, stroking her face with a thumb. “Nightmares again?” 

 

“No -- yes,” Michael stammered, sitting up quickly to wipe her face. “It’s nothing, really. I’m sorry I woke you.”

 

Philippa scoffed. “Michael, you know I never minded that.” But Michael could see the touch of worry, even beyond her carefully guarded eyes. She had always assured Michael that she didn’t mind, but when it happened too frequently for anyone’s liking, Michael could tell that it was starting to wear Philippa down. 

 

_ I know you hear me when I cry _

_ I try to hold it in at night _

_ While you're sleepin' next to me _

_ But it's your arms that I need this time (This time) _

 

Michael had never doubted that Philippa would protect her. From the very first moment her ship beamed her aboard after finding her in the wreckage of the Discovery, obliterated by a spore drive overload, Philippa had moved heaven and earth to protect Michael. The first thing she did was to reinstate her as the Chancellor of the Empire, replacing the previously lost Michael Burnham by introducing her as a woman not dead, but returned to the arms of the empire. The original Burnham had been Philippa’s right-hand man and most trusted person, and apparently, they had a relationship that surpassed that of a platonic one, not unlike Michael and her own Philippa. 

 

Which was why, when Michael also included that when she explained to the emperor who she was, Philippa immediately suggested that she assumed her role as the emperor’s spouse as well, knowing that those who weren’t made aware of the situation would be confused by the couple’s sudden distance. Michael agreed, too. In any universe, under any circumstance, Philippa wasn’t hard to love. 

 

Faking a viable romance was the easy part. The blurred lines were slightly harder for Michael. 

 

On good days, she would kiss Philippa and mean it. And she could tell that the sentiment was reciprocated, given the way Philippa was so fiercely protective of Michael, always shadowing her out of danger, and always speaking good of her, beyond her need to do so in order to convince her council that Michael was to be trusted and respected at all costs. The way she tenderly looked after her when she was driven by nightmares, or the way she would leave Michael out of discussing her war tactics and strategies, knowing that she would never be able to accept the Terran lifestyle and ethics.

 

It was curious. The both of them lost their lovers but found a curious counterpart on the opposite side of everything they’d been groomed to believe in. A mirror universe, but only mirroring appearance, and not the heart. It seemed only too dangerous to truly indulge in love again, knowing that nuances could only be suppressed and ignored for so long.

 

_ Look at the cards that we've been dealt _

_ If you were anybody else _

_ Probably wouldn't last a day _

_ Heavy tears, a rain parade from hell (From hell) _

 

“Well.” Philippa kissed Michael’s cheek as she held Michael closer to her, letting her head rest on her collarbone. It was as though she knew exactly where Michael would fit into her hold, clicking into place as a puzzle piece.

 

But of course, she would know, equally as how Michael knew how Philippa would fit into her hold when they cuddled in bed. 

 

“Do you know day it is today, Michael?” she asked, an excited gleam in her eye as she spoke. 

 

Michael ran through the Stardate in her head. It wasn’t anything she could recall from her Starfleet days, nor was there anything specified in the Terran calendar that she had meticulously memorised when she was first given the offer to take the place of the old Michael Burnham. But then, it hit her. This day in  _ her  _ personal calendar would always stand out to her, making it almost hard to forget. There was simply no going around it.

 

But it begged the question: how did Philippa know?

 

Michael cleared her throat, something she tended to do when she didn’t know if words or tears would be coming out of her. “It’s… Philippa’s birthday,” she said slowly, steadily, giving away nothing.

 

Philippa’s breathing hitched against her, almost pausing entirely. Slowly, she peeled herself off of Michael and stood up, a shielded look in her eyes. “It’s…  _ my  _ birthday, you mean,” she corrected quietly, a hissed breath escaping from between her teeth. At once Michael scrambled for an explanation as she hurried out of bed. “Oh… y-you share the same --” 

 

“-- I know.” Philippa cut her off. Michael couldn’t seem to make out her expression at the moment, and it scared her. Did the Terran emperor bear judgement? Disappointment? Anger? 

 

“I’m sorry.” Reduced to nothing but an apology, this was all Michael could sincerely offer. She cleared her throat again. 

 

To her dismay, she felt a tear slide down her cheek. As it was, she couldn’t even look Philippa properly in the eye. 

 

_ Baby, you do it so well _

_ You been so understanding, you been so good _

_ And I'm puttin' you through more than one ever should _

_ And I'm hating myself, 'cause you don't want to _

_ Admit that it hurts you _

 

“I’m sorry… I just… I just…” 

 

It was a total damnation, this universe, and their bond. Her face was the same. Her mannerisms were the same. Hell, even the way they wore their hair was the same. But this simply wasn’t the Philippa Michael knew and loved. It just felt… wrong. 

 

It was as if one stared into their reflection and saw themselves… reflected, but not perceived. 

 

“Michael, what is it?” 

 

“Her. You’re not… her. You… I… I’m sorry, I…” More tears escaped her as she tried to make sense of what she was even trying to say. Her only urge was to flee. 

 

“I don’t know,” Michael finally said, swallowing the last of her sobs. “I… I best return to my quarters, get myself freshened up for the festivities. I… I better go.”

 

“Michael, wait,” Philippa called after her, but Michael had already scurried to the door. She took a final glance at Philippa, surprised to find that she had a sheen of a tear in her own eyes, before swiftly blinking them out of existence. Without so much as another word, Michael swiftly exited her quarters and made her way to her own. It wasn’t far away, but at least it put distance between them. 

 

_ I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again _

_ Over her, mm _

_ I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again _

_ 'Stead of ghostin' her _

  
  



	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Aussie and Asian friends should be well off on their romantic candlelight dinners about now, so top of the morning to my friends in other parts of the world! Happy Valentine’s Day, and please enjoy part 2. It’s not completed yet, so be sure to check back later today!

In her quarters, Michael found that a steaming bath had already been drawn for her, and Saru patiently waiting next to it. Her Saru, no less, the only other survivor from the Discovery, whom Philippa and her crew had pulled aboard with Michael. It didn’t take much persuasion on Michael’s part for the emperor to allow Saru to stay as Michael’s servant, though she really insisted that the Kelpien did as little work as possible to keep up the guise. Instead, he served to advise Michael as a friend, but even such occasions were rarer, as they saw less of each other with each passing day.

 

Still, even without frequent talks, Saru was the one onboard who knew Michael the best — better than Philippa herself. So when Michael wordlessly shed her clothes and climbed into the bath he at once knew that something was wrong.

 

“Bad day, Michael? You look quite defeated.” 

 

“Oh, Saru.” She looked at him, her face already freshly slick with tears. Saru looked a little taken aback, but he kept calm as he talked. “Has something gone wrong with… the emperor?” 

 

Michael shrugged, rubbing. “No, it’s just that…”

 

“That?” Saru prompted as he took one of Michael’s hands and began scrubbing her nails, as a dutiful servant would do. This time round, Michael have the energy to deny him.

 

“I miss Philippa so much. Our Philippa.”

 

It was out, clear as day. 

 

Saru clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Well, naturally. You shared one of the greatest romances throughout the Fleet. Whatever happened to her… to us aboard the Discovery was simply too unfortunate.” 

 

“I  _ told  _ her to not trust the spore drive!” Michael’s interjection made him flinch. “It was too early in development. But you know Philippa. Always too encouraging to all of our crew members. She gave Lieutenant Stamets the green light without a doubt. It’s…” She exhaled sharply, rubbing the tears out her eyes with a swift motion. “I just…”

 

“Burnham?” The Kelpien’s voice was tentative as he moved to wash her hair.

 

“I’m sorry, Saru,” she said. “I know my agitation scares you.” Awkwardly he moved to stroke his extended ganglia. “But this Philippa… she really is nothing like ours.”

 

Philippa on this universe may have treated her with kindness, but it was nothing compared to the Philippa Michael loved. She was pure sunshine, an emitter of hope and warmth, and she restored the lost joys in all corners of the universe. She left love in her wake, had endless compassion to spare, and whatever she failed to do, her heart would compensate for the deed. And the Terran emperor… every time Michael tried to find any reminder of her own Philippa in her, she was only painfully reminded that she had to love a woman who had started wars, orchestrated massacres, and laughed in the face of destruction. She wasn’t benevolent. She would never be.

 

“No,” Saru agreed, wringing a towel, “and she never has been. She’s her own person, groomed by cruelty and survival instinct. I advise you not to be fooled by her… seeming compassion for you. It is all out of her selfish affection for you, be it yourself, or your deceased counterpart.” 

 

“But the problem is that she really does love me,” Michael said quietly, staring at the rippling water where her knees surfaced. “She’s so… happy when she sees me. So affected by every little thing I do, or every little thing that is done to me. It’s frustrating that I cannot reciprocate this love because all I see in her is a ghost!” 

 

Where Michael expected kind words of advice, or to the very least, a comment from the wise Kelpien, Saru gave none. It took a long while of an unsteady silence until Michael realised the full magnitude of what she had said. She clasped her hand to her mouth, discreetly checking his face as she did. His expression said it all. 

 

The rest of the bath was spent in the same silence as Saru cleaned her with the a diligent meticulousness he must have learned only recently. Under normal circumstances, Michael would have refused his help. But today, she could only hope that Saru didn’t mind the toil to provide her with such an undeserved luxury. 

 

When he was done, he wrapped Michael in a bathrobe and led her to her walk-in closet, where a gown had been laid out for her. It was body conscious, a tight-fitting gold piece adorned with a veil of diamonds, draping all the way down to her feet. Her back would show quite a bit, but the rest of the dress was otherwise modest, with long sleeves and a turtleneck finishing the look. It had Philippa’s voice woven in every inch of the fabric.  _ This woman is mine.  _

 

“Wow, this fabric is so soft. Where did you find this dress?” Michael asked as she put it on, surprised that it was tailored to her exact measurements. A shy look appeared on Saru’s face. 

“You see, Michael… when the other Kelpien servants weren’t busy tending to their masters, they would work on other extracurricular tasks. One of them just happened to be tailoring,” he explained, motioning for Michael to sit in front of her vanity. “I spent a bit of time studying holo-images of Terran vogue, if you will. I decided that the emperor would appreciate you in something as flattering as this. The rest just came from there.” 

 

“Oh, Saru, you shouldn’t have,” Michael said with her brows furrowed. “You’re far too erudite for all these dirty jobs. You should be analysing the entire archives of their war tactics, or science developments… anything but pictures of pretty dresses. It’s such a waste of your talent. You’re capable of so much more.”

 

His expression remained blank as he combed her hair and fixed a lattice headdress at the back of her head. “In Starfleet, perhaps I was given these opportunities to develop myself beyond… comfort zones. But there’s an established ecosystem here, Michael. And I’m nothing but a slave.” Saru was firm but gentle when he said this, as if he had hit the final nail on the coffin. Michael shifted uneasily, hating that such a dear friend of hers seemed lost to subservience. This wasn’t the Saru she knew, either. Her only reminder of the universe she came from seemed to be fading away. 

 

“So you’ve given up, then?” she challenged, standing up before Saru was done with her hair. “You’re packing away your determination, your courage, and your resilience in a tiny box, just because you don’t  _ think _ you would be able to make it out of this… ecosystem?”

 

If these words lit a fire in the old Saru’s heart, it did nothing to sway the Kelpien that stood before Michael. “I suppose so,” he said blankly. “Yes.” 

 

Michael stared at Saru for a long time, until she felt tears welling up in her eyes once more. Blinking quickly, she turned to leave.

 

“I have to get to the party.” 

 

***

 

“Chancellor Burnham! It’s absolutely lovely to see you back by the emperor’s side!”

 

“It seems only yesterday the entire empire grieved your loss. What a relief that they found you alive! The emperor must be so pleased to reunite with you, for her birthday.”

 

“Chancellor Burnham!” 

 

Whilst Michael did not see Philippa until later in the party, she did meet with many of her lords and officers, who seemed all too prepared to shower her with praise and fond words. She was about to turn away from another call of her name when a gleam of silver caught her interest. Turning around, she realised that she was being addressed by a familiar friend from her old life, and her eyes flooded with relief.

 

“Detmer! It’s good to see your face.”

 

“It’s  _ Captain  _ Detmer now, Chancellor,” she replied, politely but not without a victorious tone in her voice. “It was very kind of you to include me in your considerations following your… disappearance. Emperor Georgiou personally promoted me to captain, according to your wishes. She even told me that she trusted me as much as you did. It’s an honour for me to command the Shenzhou now.” 

 

“Isn’t it?” Michael’s smile froze on her face. Though she was happy for Detmer, the larger part of her felt as though a thorn had been wedged in her heart as she exchanged conversation with the her supposed former Number One. It only was a shame, because if her intentions weren’t unkind, Michael would have found so much pride in seeing the potential of her dear friend realised; a complete transformation from the witty yet soft-spoken helm officer she had known. But she couldn;t ever set aside the fact that this Detmer was groomed to be a woman to partake in eliminating species, entire cultures and worlds, for the sake of power. 

 

However well Captain Philippa Georgiou had taught Lieutenant Keyla Detmer, Emperor Georgiou seemed to reciprocate with Captain Detmer. 

 

“I must go, but I’m very proud of you,” she said quickly, backing away from the auburn-haired woman. 

 

“Long live the empire,” she replied with her chin up. “And many blessings to the emperor for your return.”

 

As Michael backed away from the crowd, she couldn’t help but feel that the atmosphere of the celebration was tense, on guard, calculated. Every single thing said was insincere but smart, said to be remembered, or favoured at best. It wasn’t as much a celebration as much as it was another battle, only for Philippa’s approval.

 

From where she stood Michael could hear buzzes of praise from all around her. Forced blessings and fake laughter all showered in Philippa’s wake, as everyone seemed only too eager to position themselves by the emperor, carefully planting words and impressions that may just spare their lives in the future. 

 

At once Michael was reminded of the times the Discovery crew shared in Ten Forward for Philippa’s birthday every year. It was one of the biggest events for the ship, and it was even known Fleet-wide as one of the craziest celebrations annually.

 

As soon as the night shift ended, everyone would make their way to the ship’s bar for the night, where spirits and alcohol of the most potent kind would already have been laid out and waiting for them. If Philippa detained one or two officers in her ready room for a quick meeting, she would enter a space of entirely drunk crew members and blasting music that barely made their screams audible.

 

Some of the more witty ensigns, to Michael’s recollection, would ask her if she had any plans of proposing on that night, every single year. 

 

They were this loose-lipped when they were tipsy, that damned crew (in Philippa’s words, affectionately). Their manners, caution, and professionalism were thrown to the wind as soon as first swig of Andorian brandy hit. As a result, Philippa would receive quite some interesting blessings without filters of any sort. 

 

“Georgiou! You’re officially one year closer to death!”

 

“Be sure to keep it down when shagging Michael tonight, captain!”

 

“And now, captain, a rendition of a Klingon drinking song —“

 

“You can’t sing, Airiam, you’re a robot.”

 

“ _ Watch  _ me, Ensign Connor.”

 

It was ridiculous pompous and pathetic at the same time. But all of it was kept simply… real. There was no sentiment spared, even if they were expressed without practised eloquence. Warm, kind and free.

 

There’s something to be said about a captain’s personality being reflected in their crew. At that very moment, at a party where no one had another care for someone other than their own selves, and where every word breathed was just another rung in the ladder of hierarchy, Michael had never missed both more.

 

But the emperor was walking towards her, and Michael could only swallow it all and put on a brave face. 

 

_ Though I wish she were here instead _ __  
_ Don't want that living in your head _ __  
_ She just comes to visit me _ __  
_ When I'm dreaming every now and then (And then) _ __  
  


“Michael, there you are. You look exquisite.” Philippa’s smile glowed when she came from behind, laying a hand on Michael’s exposed back. “How are you enjoying things so far?”

 

“It’s festive. But it seems as though everyone here…”

 

“I know.” Philippa’s eyes hardened as she let out a scoff. “You seem to be the only genuine one around. Walk with me, Michael.”

 

She gripped Michael’s hand hard and leaned to whisper something in a servant’s ear. Without missing a beat, he called for silence in the entire room. “The emperor wishes to make a toast!”

 

The buzz dissolved at once, with all expectant eyes towards Philippa — and Michael.

 

She smiled brightly, raising her glass of champagne.

 

“A toast not for myself, but my second-in-command, but my number one, Chancellor Burnham!” Caterwauling cheers erupted almost immediately, as if whoever cried the loudest would be the most esteemed in the room. 

 

“Michael Burnham has brought much good to the empire over her years of service. Naturally, we all were devastated when we thought her long gone from the empire’s protection. 

 

“But even fate wouldn’t separate this esteemed woman from us. She has found her way back to us. And to me.” She held their intertwined hands up to another wave of clapping. “She is sweet, kind, and the one who reminds me of mercy to all of you when you deserve death. It is by her grace that every one of you stand here in this room. With her within the empire, balance is restored, our powers heightened more than ever. I wish you all remember that whatever service you have done for the empire is a result of Michael Burnham.”

 

Michael felt sick to the stomach as a swarm of noise, this time directed towards to her, filled her ears. She didn’t deserve this. She shouldn’t be on the receiving end of this speech so obviously meant for… Philippa’s Michael.

 

She grabbed Philippa’s hand and dragged her away, storming with a force she never knew she had within her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unrelated, but have y’all see Michelle Yeoh’s dress at the BAFTAs? Now _that’s_ an emperess.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Dis-co Thurs-day! *dances wildly*  
> And once again a very happy Valentine’s, Galentines, Single Awareness Day to y’all out there.
> 
> Onwards to the story!

“Michael? Michael, talk to me.”

 

Hidden within a cranny somewhere in the ballroom, Philippa leaned against the wall, her hands crossed together. She kept a wary finger on her pendant, which Michael guessed would equip her with extensive defence mechanisms if she attacked her at the very moment.

 

“Is this about the toast?”

 

Michael shook her head, lacing her arms in front of her chest. “Her. You miss her too. You spoke for _her_ , not me.”

 

“How do you mean?” Philippa asked, her voice bearing a cold edge. Her hand moved to grip her necklace, not so much out of defense, but of insecurity.

 

“Michael Burnham, from your universe. When you spoke of me, you thought of her. When you talk to me, you think of her. You so desperately want to see her in me, don’t you? You wish it were her, not me.”

 

“And it’s the same for your Philippa too, is it not?” Philippa’s challenge rang cold in the air, as if a strike on a bell, its chimes paralysing Michael.

 

“Haven’t I grieved enough, Michael? Do I really need to have you breathing down my neck while I… figure things out? Must we really make enemies of each other?

 

“Of course I miss my Michael. She was my sunshine in this hell of a rulership. She stayed by my side when I fought my way up. She learned to keep me just benevolent enough that there wouldn’t be uprisings to squander. She has done so much more than you would ever be capable of. Have you ever considered that?

 

“Michael, I know what I’m doing and I know who I love. I want to love _you,_ Michael. Can’t you ever just give me that chance? To love again?”

 

“I didn’t think I would be capable of love ever again when I lost my Philippa,” Michael said quietly, her defences lost.

 

“That makes us both. But look where we are now, Michael. You kiss me and you mean it, on good days. Can’t we start from there?”

 

 _And after all that we been through_ __  
_(And after all that we been through)_ __  
_There's so much to look forward to_ __  
_What was done and what was said_ __  
_Leave it all here in this bed with you (With you)_  


“So what?” said Michael, clearing her throat. “You want me to kiss you or something?”

 

For the first time, Philippa looked bashful as she trained her eyes to the ground. “I think that would be quite nice.”

 

It felt as though Michael and Philippa were on opposite sides of a bullfighting ring, withheld back by their gates, but locking eyes with an intensity that would shatter sunlight. Michael felt tension growing in her stomach, then her breathing, and her heartbeat, as she stared at the woman before her. A part of her regretted ever letting such rhetorics rush out of her without consideration, yet another part of her hung with anticipation as she stared at Philippa.

 

The space between the two of them was confined at best, and it hung with anticipation. Michael could hear Philippa’s breathing.

 

“Don’t cry, Michael.” It was a whispered plea. Michael forced herself to focus on Philippa, only to realise that she couldn’t find anything but a ghost in the woman’s face. How could she love like this, try as she might? Would her own Philippa approve? Would she ever let herself live with that?

 

It was treachery of sorts, but Michael couldn’t help it. A part of her had always wanted to love the emperor. She simply never permitted herself to.

 

Standing in front of Philippa, however, could she really stand broad-shouldered and claim that? That she was willing to leave the past behind, and that she won’t betray her own self when the past haunted her again?

 

“Michael.” Philippa was expectant, waiting. Michael only regretted that she made her wait for so long.

 

 _Baby, you do it so well_ __  
_You been so understanding, you been so good_ __  
_And I'm puttin' you through more than one ever should_ __  
_And I'm hating myself, 'cause you don't want to_ __  
_Admit that it hurts you, baby_ __  
__  
_I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again_ __  
_Over her, mm_ __  
_I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again_   
'Stead of ghostin' her

 

“Michael.” Philippa held her hand, placing it to her heart. “I can never be your Philippa. I can’t give you all these memories you shared with her. I know you spent a hell of a time with her, and I’m not here to take that away from you.

 

“You have ghosts. I have them too. But we can emerge from the dust holding each other. We can start a new love story, right here, right now. Let me love you, Michael. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do in a long while.”

 

And the kiss came crashing like a regal strike of a gong, shocking at first, and then crescendoing into something magnificent, new and great; a light at the end of the tunnel, coming in a steadfast burst, until Michael could see the roads in front of her again, until she could see _hope._

 

Hope that came from within herself. A final gift from her universe. Standing there, holding Philippa by her neck, rocking, she silently pledged to give as much of it as she would need to get through the rest of their lives together.

 

Somewhere from a corner of her heart, a voice sighed and a knot came undone.

 

 _Thank you, Philippa,_ Michael thought silently. _I’ll see you on the other side of the horizon. Thank you for sending me to her._

 

She kissed Philippa again, letting her lips part slightly and allowing her tongue to enter her mouth, welcoming her to taste every part of her, to map and memorise herself, slowly, gently. _I’m your new Michael, now. This is me._ She shuddered as Philippa hit her sweet spot, drawing a soft moan from her before she even realised it.

 

Even as they finally pulled away, a thin trail of saliva still connected their lips, now swollen and lushly red. Michael felt her breath hitch in her chest again. Philippa put a finger to her lips when she leaned in again.

 

“We’ll take this slowly, Michael. We have our entire lives ahead of us,” she said, although her eyes held a knowing gleam that made Michael’s face flush. “Let’s get back out there.”

 

“You go ahead,” she said to Philippa. And suddenly she was all alone again, confined with no one but her mind. This time, she felt a smile seeping through her soul, and etching itself onto her face.

 

It wasn’t an ending, it was a beginning.

 

 _We'll get through this_ __  
_We'll get past this_ __  
_I'm a girl with_ __  
_A whole lot of baggage_ __  
_But I love you (But I love you)_ __  
_We'll get past this (Past this)_ __  
_I'm a girl with_ _A whole lot of baggage, oh, yeah_  


 

Somewhere beyond the universe, she knew that her Philippa was smiling, too.

_Fin._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand... the end! :) Apologies if the 3 parts were divided a little unevenly, I separated them as I wrote.
> 
> Word of advice though, never write two characters of different universes in the same fic. It's breaking my head with the names and whatnot. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! It was my pleasure to write.


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